


Intimate Note

by ShardOf_QuietExcitement



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, Gayle is kinky, Imra is daddy material, i fucking ship this so much, i'm a mess, one-shots?, what they had was gay and you can't tell me otherwise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-03-10 22:42:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13511265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShardOf_QuietExcitement/pseuds/ShardOf_QuietExcitement
Summary: Imra begins to question whether or not her feelings for this telepath are pissing her off or not.Gayle is trapped and she can't do anything but be showered with Imra's love.Set after 3x11





	1. Unusual Experiences

She couldn't understand this mysterious urge that had led her into the presence of this woman. Sure, she had held her head still for a moment while she'd detached the power from the device. She remembered glancing down at full lips and the thought of leaning in close. She remembers the intenseness that melted into hers despite the frigid blue ones that grasped her own.

Its been a whole month since the mission had taken place. In fact, she should be glad that it's over so that she could get a good night's rest, but sadly, that wasn't the case at all. _Restless_ is the word that constantly flooded her mind. She stares at the ceiling every night, growing accustomed to counting the tiny bumps above her. Counting. Repeating. It was a habitual cycle. The cycle didn't include Mon-el sleeping in the same quarters as herself. A part of her was abnormally glad he didn't lay beside her. Lately, she can't even hug him properly; she doesn't feel terrible about it either.

Their marriage? She doesn't know what to say. Perhaps it was a bad judgment. She was there with memories of someone else. He was there with memories of Kara. The great Supergirl. He was compassionate, but lost. Those things together made him mature. What they had wasn't love. It was mere fondness for each other. All she knows is that Kara and Mon-el still have these feelings. A deeper meaning to it.

It would strike another as odd; however, she doesn't mind at all.

Anyhow, her own attention had followed a rather interesting telepath.

 

* * *

 

_"See? Don't be afraid, Matilda."_

It echoes in her ears along with the flashes of dull red warning lights behind her eyelids. The memory manages to trail a long path of tingles against her spine as she walks, soon finding herself standing outside of Gayle's new cell. The blonde was sat, facing away from her. Distracted fingers worked their way across the ivory square-plated wall, tracing the indented lines with so much care.

Imra struggles to find her voice in this enforced silence. After all, how could you possibly talk to a person as if they weren't being held in confinement? Her mouth clenches and unclenches uncertainly as she continues to look over the woman. She still adorns her black ensemble and of course, the device isn't wrapped around her head. The window across from her revealed the calming blue sky that's scattered with clouds.

"Standing there isn't going to be much of a benefit for you, Matilda."

Gayle turns to the brunette with a quip, indifference clearly stretched over her face. The blonde watches Imra with concealed interest; she was fidgeting uncomfortably under her gaze. It was a delicious experience, making this woman feel uneasy with her presence. _What was she up to?_

"I just wanted to check up on you." Imra feels her throat dry, her shoulders tensing. "To see how you're liking your new...room."

"Are you inquiring this solemn, barren cave?" A brow is raised, the ridiculous utterance striking her gob smacked with this woman's sanguine prospects.

"There's no need for sarcasm. I'm quite sure you're thankful for being given a room that bears window."

The blue eyed woman scoffs. "Thankful? I appreciate the newly installed landscape, but I wouldn't go far as to say _thankful_." Yes, she admits that she didn't expect to get a new cell when she came back into the clutches of DEO cuffs, but who could blame her? She was a villain after all.

Imra sighs, not grateful for this banter of defensiveness.

"What do you expect out of visiting me?" She abruptly rises from the bed, striding towards the transparent door with commanded arrogance. "An endless stream of recognition for having enough trust in me to let the crazy girl loose out of that nettlesome contraption?"

The hazel-blue eyed woman flinches, brows furrowing at the implication of desiring hero worship. It was preposterous that she keeps deducing the most unfavorable things out of situations. "Why are you so cynical?" She dares a step forward. They were nose to nose, being that the only barrier between them was glass. A heated fluster spreads through Imra's chest. Adrenaline. It confuses her that a simple argument could fuel her excitement. She feels the rush of shivers bundling her nerves.

"Why are _you_ so intrusive?" Gayle grits through clenched teeth, irritated at the gall. For goodness sake, she was already chained to this room - an upgrade to her first one actually. There was someone that had to be watching her all the damn time, it was getting tiresome. The blonde was starting to question if the DEO has confidentiality issues that needed to be solved. Apparently it was true with the way this dark haired woman kept thrusting curiosity in her face.

They remain there, holding each other's ground.

Truthfully, Gayle was feeling that this verbal challenge was intoxicating. It gripped at her attention like a newscaster to a splattering number of brutal deaths. She continued to stare into Imra's eyes. The coloring still surprised her, for she expected molten brown. No matter, it was still an attractive characteristic. One that made her skin buzz and drunk on the lovely attention.

Gayle wishes that she's able to go into Imra's mind once again, to simply pluck out the horrific phobia that makes this woman weak to her knees. It was one of those weird ones like a scene from a movie.

Her husband.

 All she can say is that it was not meant to be.

"Matilda, when are you going to learn that you need to stop wasting your time fighting me?" The blonde shakes her head with disappointment before turning on her heel. "Instead, just waste it with your husband while the marriage is still in session." She raises a challenging brow, a smirk slowly creasing the side of her lip as she takes her seat again.

Imra's gaze is sprinkled with a tad too much of apprehension. With a deep exhaled breath, she makes her leave. A triumphant pair of eyes follow her figure until it disappears behind a corner.

 

* * *

 

The sound of multiple thumps catches Alex's attention as she strolls by the training room. Inquisitiveness gets the best of her as she peeks inside to find the time traveler. The sight she finds causes her to gulp.

In the center of the lit room, Imra strikes the dummy repeatedly with accuracy and precision. A line of sweat drips downward, beginning at a black sports bra and across toned abs and into the waistband of black sweats. Harsh impacts were given, showing exquisite muscles rippling in her movements. Her dark hair was tied back into a sleek ponytail, a layer of sweat on her neck.

Alex watches the flying right hook that pierces the dummy. One of its many arms breaks off and tumbles to the floor until it slides to a perfect stop at the agent's feet. "Maybe you should be training with an actual person so that you don't damage all of our equipment." Alex crosses her arms, her cast on her leg already discarded.

Imra stares back at her wide eyed as she squares her shoulders. She wasn't entirely sure on how to respond, given that this woman was Supergirl's sister, adoptive or not. There was an easygoing smile on the agent's face that relaxed her if only for a little bit. She felt the tightly wound bones in her back crack as she straightened her posture.

"Sorry." Imra breathed out. "I believe that I may have gotten lost in my head for a mere second. Enough for me to go overboard in reality." She chuckles to herself sheepishly and shrugging.

Alex shakes her head, finding it rare how an elegant woman could be so remarkably awkward without faking it in order to look cute. The short haired agent nods towards the door. "Come on. Follow me."

Imra's eyebrows bunch together in confusion, but she makes a move towards the door wordlessly. They enter another room, a whole platform laid out in the shape of an octagon. Six ceiling lights dangle above the stage, beaming proudly. It was like an arena. A fight to the death.

"Sparring?"

"You bet." Alex gives her a smirk before a rough boot implants itself into Imra's right hip; it surprises the time traveler, knocking her forcefully into a wall.

Imra hisses, pushing off the wall. She grimaces as a smile finds her mouth. She wants to laugh. Of course this was going to be an unfair fight. Not everything in life follows rules. She stares Alex down - the urge to dominate was strong - as her shoes dig into the cement beneath her. She charges, slamming her shoulder into Alex's abdomen. Imra anticipates the arms that try to put her into a hold, so she rushes to block her opponent's closest arm to her neck with her own and she lifts. She launches the weighted form onto the raised floor, enjoying the loud body hitting the ground that's closely followed with a pained groan.

The hazel-blue eyed woman jumps up with ease, circling the agent like a frenzied wolf. This time they both dive forward, fists driving between them. Hitting and missing. Alex chips the other woman's collarbone as Imra successfully lands one to the jaw.

Alex's knee shifts upward, pummeling into a torso. She uses the small opportunity to grab the back of Imra's head and forces it down, hitting her knee once again.

Imra falls, slightly disoriented as blood coats her mouth. She sucks in the metallic tastes as she gets to her knees; her tongue slides across her bottom lip and she notices the way Alex gets distracted as she goes for a kick to the chest. Imra catches her ankle and  hauls her forward. The agent is elbowed as she plummets to the ground.

The time traveler straddles her, punching straight down with sharp knuckles as Alex brings her forearms up for defense. This goes on for a while before she's able to find an opening and she must be out of her mind because the next thing she knows is that her hand is rearing back and a loud smack echoes through the room. She just slapped her.

Imra stares at her in shock, her punches ceasing.

Alex blushes, not knowing exactly why she had done that.

Thinking, she sits up and hooks her arm around Imra's neck. The other woman gasps as Alex is able to drag them up to their feet. The agent's hold tightens and Imra's short nails try to dig into Alex's forearm. Both are out of breath.

The vein in Imra's neck begins to pop out like a sore thumb. Imra feels it and in her struggle to get out, her eyes land on the thin shirt that her opponent wears. With little thought about rudeness, she latches her teeth onto Alex's side, hearing a yelp. The arm loosens and the next thing that happens is a blur. Suddenly, Alex's back is pressed into Imra's chest as they fall to the ground. Strong legs grapple onto her waist and now she's being choked. Her left arm is stuck to her face as the arm tightens.

It's only a few seconds before Alex musters all her strength and taps on the set of exposed ribs underneath her. The constriction lets go of all holds and Alex can't maneuver off of the body that also lays in exhaustion.

As Alex catches her breath, she thinks of the level of difficulty it was to spar with this woman. It was brutal. Her sides were hurting and a bruise was likely to be forming on her jaw. And then she thinks about the warmth radiating onto her back. A pair of breasts were pressed against her and all too soon Alex is blushing and scrambling off.

Imra comes to a stand, noting the tenseness that had struggled off her. She smirked at Alex, noticing her lingering eyes. Her face was awfully red. Aw. How adorable.

"T-That was nice." She stumbles over her words. "We should really do that again sometime. But I have somewhere to be." The agent walks backwards, slightly tripping over herself and showing that maybe her agility only came through fighting. "So I'm just going to go!" She chuckles nervously, fumbling to open the door, "Damn thing! B-Bye!" She dashes out, but her shoulder rams into the door as she falls out.

The last thing Imra hears is a loud _Ow!_

The time traveler shakes her head laughing. She was satisfied. It made her happy knowing that her charm with the ladies hasn't diminished at all.

 


	2. Candy Wrapper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything except the plot.

Imra shoved the wrapper of the toffee into the crisp pocket of her unbuttoned white dress shirt. She found that she enjoyed this style of clothing. She felt powerful even if there was a not so fancy dark tank top inside. Comfortable, yet dashing.

Vasquez had escorted her to a nearby bookstore. Perhaps a good ten minute walk away, enough to pump blood through her aching muscles. Her boredom had gotten the best of her and with her worsening mood around Mon-el she'd rather keep a distance. So when she was walking about the DEO, the only agent who didn't seem busy was this short haired woman. A quiet one, but a nice one. And here they were, going aisle to aisle with the agent close behind her in civilian clothing. Imra questioned her mannerisms. For someone who worked for a secretive operational headquarter, she wasn't making it easy to blend in what with her hands clasped behind her back like a guard. The time traveler shakes the thought as her eyes skim the shelves filled with literature. Her eyes mile through each title, until one catches her.

_The Princess Saves Herself in this One_

That sounded very appealing to Imra's ears. Despite the long stretch between the 21st century and the 31st century, there was still some subtle misogyny crawling through unresolved cracks. Imra's jaw twitches with excitement as she flips to a page, marveling in the smoothness of the cover that she lays atop her fingers.

_"once upon_

_a time,_

_the princess_

_rose from the ashes_

_her dragon lovers_

_made of her_

_&_

_crowned_

_herself_

_the_

_mother-fucking_

_queen of_

_herself_

 

_-how's that for a happily ever after?"_

 

Imra snorts to herself, deciding that, yes, this was the perfect one.

"Would you be interested in comic books?"

The voice takes her by surprise, hearing it for the first time. She swivels around. Vasquez stares at her with unbridled probing. There was a twinkle in them. Imra was amused at the display of subdued excitement as the agent can't contain the slight bounce in her spot. But the question confuses her. Not so much the question, but the word.

"What are _comic books_?"

She doesn't expect the wide grin that comes after.

 

* * *

 

Imra continued staring at the small box in her hands as she sat crisscrossed in front of Gayle's door in the afternoon. She supposed the woman was sleeping with how the lights in the cell were off. She also supposes that there wasn't much to do since she was stuck with no one to talk to except the blonde herself. Imra believes that there's no harm in talking to yourself. She does it out of nervousness if there simply is no one to help calm her nerves. Yet, talking to yourself can only go so far until you get bored of yourself as well. But sleep? Sleep is reliable. Funny, Imra can't say the same for herself.

She sighs, gazing down at the objects she has bought with the money the DEO had given her. Funko Pop. Vasquez had given Meg Masters to her, claiming that she resembled the figure. 93. Supernatural. The figure, not the actress. Imra didn't feel right with the idea of taking the figures out of their boxes. It felt like too much of a crime. A part of her thought that once she did take them out of their boxes, they'd crumble apart in her palms. However, the box in her hands wasn't 93. It was Marvel. 153. Spider-Gwen Unhooded. It oddly reminded her of the woman that was currently in a deep slumber.

The traveler inspects the door, trying to locate a place to slip the present of knowledgeable activity to free the blonde from quietness. Imra spots a small opening at the bottom, large enough to slide it through, but she wanted to leave a note. She couldn't write on the book. It made her feel dishonorable at the thought. It made her feel slimy if she were ever to vandalize a work of art. No, no. That would not do.

She shifts on the floor. Something crinkles in her shirt pocket. The one with the free pen she'd received in the store.

Carefully, she plucks out the pen and the thing that had set off a sound.

A wrapper.

 

* * *

 

When Gayle awakes, the lights turn on automatically. She flips over, blinking away her sleepiness. Her vision is blurred for a few seconds until it clears. The telepath proceeds to sit up, hand leveraging her. She stops midway as the sheets glide down.

A black book was on the floor, just beside the small opening where the guards would routinely distribute food to her on a dreary tray.

She was still for a moment, feeling wary. An irrational fraction of Gayle's brain tells her that it was a trick. A bomb of some sort and if she opened it, it would kill her instantly. The blonde makes a face, her lips screwing up into a scowl. Ridiculous. Imprisonment only to kill her a few days later?

Deciding, she finally sits and cracks her neck, the crick popping out. She rises swiftly after drawing back the covers and she bends down to pick up the object.

Gayle is about to sit when something red catches her eye on the floor. She picks it up with two fingers. A wrapper. She rotates it, finding pen scrawls on the side with dry wax paper.

_Perhaps I am intrusive -Matilda_

The blonde scoffs, rolling her eyes. The displeasure makes her uncomfortable because for once it wasn't genuine vexation. She shakes her head. _Stop it._ She flips open to the first page.

Poetry.

Full lips lift up slightly.

Smiling.

She looks out the window for a moment - sun setting.

 

* * *

 

He stares at her with a sullenness that didn't quite reach agony. He sat still, blinking the despair in his eyes away a couple of times  as it was impossible for him not to feel this way. His throat was tightening. Mon-el can't believe what he has heard, but it doesn't come as a surprise. The thought that he wasn't able to make her happy makes him bitter with guilt.  

"You want a divorce?"

Imra struggles to keep her eyes on him and she relents, shifting her eyes down with a tight grimace. She can't find words. She doesn't know if saying anything at all was appropriate. She knows that this plan of action was for the best - for both of them. They were only meant to be friends. Nothing more, nothing less. So she nods.

Mon-el forces out a sigh, deeming that it should be done. Even it was painful. He loves her, but he realizes that it was eventually going to end. He noticed that she was starting to drift away from him; he noticed he was too. To Kara. The one he had left. Maybe Imra had found someone too, whoever they are.

"Okay." He nods once, his tone even.

"Please understand, Mon-el." Imra pleads, hunching into herself as anxiety rolls across her back in never ending cycles.

He nods again. "I do understand. It was bound to happen." He slowly stands, his chair screeching loudly across the floor accidentally. He attempts to smile, wanting to assure her.

He places a hand on her shoulder before he walks away.

Imra's eyes jolt open as she wakes up, having fallen asleep in the training room beside the wall. No one must've seen her. Imra breathes out deeply, slouching herself into the wall and crossing her arms as the cold hits her. The dream. It was calm and so peculiar. She doesn't know what it should be classified as. A dream or a nightmare? Imra shakes her head vigorously, trying to grasp reality out of her haze. With weighted arms she lifts her hands to her face in order to warm her cheeks. Instead of dryness she pats down on trickles of small water. Imra's dark brows furrow as her fingers make their way to her eyes. Tears? She wipes at her eyes and brings the evidence in her view. The coolness flutters around her exposed arms and she drops her head against the wall - tired.

She should really get home. She gets up onto her haunches before a thought hits her.

Should she? She shouldn't?

 

* * *

 

When Gayle wakes up for a moment that night she groggily sees a figure fast asleep outside her door.

There was a pillow tucked under a gorgeous head of equally mesmerizing hair. Another was squeezed between two slackened arms of the curled up form.

Gayle snorts quietly when she spots a little amount of saliva dribbling down the time traveler's mouth.

Unconsciously, she slips her hand under her own pillow, afraid that someone might've taken it in her comatose like state. Her fingertips hit the edge of the book. With that, the telepath is able to shut her eyes and rest.

_Dumbass. Cute one, but a dumbass._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Princess Saves Herself in this One by: Amanda Lovelace


	3. New Friends

"What type of skills do you have?" Kara leads her through the CatCo building. Truthfully, Imra found it bizarre to name a company after a domestic mammal. She wondered if there was a significance to the name or if it was a daft decision on the owner's part.

Nonetheless, with what Imra was seeing with her own two eyes, she could tell that the company was certainly successful. The multiple screens confused her. How could a person even focus through the different displays given on each of the screens?

"Could you elaborate please?" Nervousness trickles up Imra's back as she proceeds to tuck in her denim shirt into black jeans - which by the way was already tucked in the neatest way possible. Her white slip ons drifted across the floor with complete silence.

Kara raises an eyebrow at her, hearing her irregular heartbeats. "Well," she comes to a halt, sensing that time is what Imra needs - just long enough to calm down. "What can you offer the company? What is it that you can do to help the company succeed?"

An uneasy chuckle is released. "That's the thing you see, I...I don't know if my skills are modern enough for this century." Imra had a feeling that suspicions would arise if she suddenly busted out new forms of technological suggestions. In fact, the only thing she had going for her that would give her true disguise was her combat skills.

The Kryptonian hums in thought. "Okay, I have an  _idea._ " The blonde averts her eyes causing the other woman to tense up even further.

"Why are you making that expression?"

Kara jolts, her hands unable to stay still as she adjusts her glasses, then rests her hands on her hips, only to scratch her neck. "Expression?" Her voice comes out high pitched. "What expression?"

Imra blinks. "The expression that leads me to believe that I'm not going to be pleased with this idea."

The spectacles woman chuckles with apprehension. "Um...about that."

 

* * *

 

 "Hey, Lena." The greeting flies out with a bright smile as Kara leads the time traveler into the CEO's office.

Imra observes with fascination when the chair swivels around to reveal a dark haired woman with perfectly sculpted brows. She struggles to not lick her lips at the sight of the impeccable - sharper than a knife - jaw line, that ushers its way to an equally smooth neck.

Regardless of Imra's speedy inspection of the CEO, it was enough to mess with her raging hormones. In her mind, she was most definitely blaming the earth for her overly erratic behavior and for having such beautiful creatures. But to be frank, she was facing frustration with intimacy. Code for sexually pent up.

Kara abruptly whips her head to look at her, eyes narrowed at the sharp intake of breath. They connect eyes and Kara can see dilation in them as Imra juggles her gaze from one woman to the other. And even though Alex has told her countless times that she's awfully oblivious, this time she easily puts two and two together. She can tell you herself, she doesn't understand this uncomfortable bubbling in her chest. But Lena's smile returns the bounce in her steps.

"Kara," Lena greets with enthusiasm, rising out of her seat and circling the expansive desk. She leans back on the table; she crosses her exposed ankle over the other, her tight pencil skirt following her movements along with Kara's eyes. "How nice of you to drop by."

Realization is transparent and it makes itself known. Imra smirks to herself, opting to take this free opportunity to further examine the room and try not to disturb this moment. Note to self: Bring Kara and Lena together.

Voilà! Intimate note!

"This is Imra Ardeen." Kara gestures towards the time traveler, a tint of red on her cheeks from registering that maybe a minute long unofficial staring contest is inappropriate - or that the piercing set of orbs are too attractive to handle with a sober mind. "She's the friend I mentioned to you."

Lena shoots a polite smile to her as Imra comes forward to shake her hand with a firm grip. This prompts the CEO to raise an eyebrow, her smile enhancing. Not many people she has encountered were capable of delivering an exemplary handshake, including Kara. It was little limp for her taste as if she didn't want to accidentally hurt her.

"Pleased to meet you Ms. Ardeen. I'm Lena Luthor."

Lena delivers the same amount of strength between their joined hands.

"Oh, no ma'am. The pleasure is definitely all mine." Imra lets go, her words dripping sensually. Her accent was unquestionably laced with amusement at the way Kara was shifting beside them - adjusting her glasses a bit too much for comfort.

It's Lena's turn to be amused, brow protruding up even more. "Ma'am?" She aims the question at Kara who just stares at her blankly. "I like her already."

Once again, Imra squishes down the agonizing smirk that threatens to rise as the spectacled woman gives Lena a tightly wound smile.

 

* * *

 

For the first day on her job, the time traveler did not expect to be bombarded with questions from a fellow coworker. She really did not expect to be bombarded with questions from Eve Teschmacher.

From what Imra could tell, this exuberant blonde was actually quite the intellectual. She had a Harvard diploma - whatever that could mean - she wasn't quite sure. Yet, a lot of her other coworkers take advantage of Eve. Perhaps it was her kindness or the quickness of her words that blinded them. It reminded her of the way Kara would act that way in Alex's or Winn's presence. Overly hyper. Only with Eve, the difference was that she is somehow capable of exceeding that level of enthusiasm.

However, what Imra also didn't expect was the hand that rested almost flirtatiously on her forearm where her sleeves had once resided were now rolled up to her elbows. Pale fingers brush over her skin that it made her tingle only to later regret her reaction to that feeling. An unconscious feeling. It was nagging her, making her guilty.

"Would you like any help with that?" Eve whispers under hooded eyelids that's enough for Imra's throat to dry.

"No, thank you." Imra chuckles, nerves high strung. "I can manage."

"Oh, no, but I insist." Suddenly, the woman stands and goes behind Imra's chair, hands finding heavily knotted shoulders. "I haven't  _helped_ anyone since this guy Mike - he doesn't work here anymore. I don't even know where he is now."

Imra understands what she meant by _help_. Though, she doesn't understand why she has to drop her ex coworker's name. It's not like she even knows who that guy is. Eve continues working on the knots in her back, clueless of the other woman's discomfort and even more so to the thought of what Gayle might say to her if she were there.

 

_What do we have here now?_

_Right there behind you in thrall_

_Its been only three hours_

_Yet, here she sits_

_So willing, so fresh_

_Strangely ready for your mighty wit_

 

_Seeking and waiting_

_Confidence higher than that of an_

_overbearing wall_

_She clasps your shoulders, Matilda_

_Mouth dry with an unquenchable thirst_

_Begging you to make her your Sweetie_

_But surely you aren't one of the first_

 

_What shall be your response?_

_Will you make her yours?_

_Will she bend over to your beck and call?_

_Perhaps spread out onto silky white_

_sheets_

_Or maybe, teasingly moist on all_

_animalistic fours_

 

Indeed, that probably would have been said by the blonde in neutral fashion. The last part took her by surprise even if she's the one who thought of it, it's just embarrassing how quickly her mind went over to _that_ side of her.

So Imra shuts her desktop hurriedly and bids Eve a quick farewell without waiting for a reply and bolts to the safety of the stairwell to calm her nerves.

 

* * *

 

Back at the DEO headquarters, Vasquez is sent over to a certain captive's cell - tray in hand. The agent trails her path towards the blonde's door, silently sliding her lunch for the day through the small opening at the bottom. As expected, the metahuman doesn't pay her any attention and the short haired woman knows it's because she's not Imra. 

Vasquez keeps her smirk internally and turns around. Halfway to the exit, the voice behind her startled the agent's step.

"Pardon?"

Vasquez spins on her heel, finding that the woman still isn't looking at her. Instead, Gayle stares at her nails, one leg atop the other.

Gayle rolls her eyes. "Where's the time traveler?" She asks, but she realizes a little too late that it sounds like she's worried over Imra. So she quickly improvises, steeling her gaze and makes eye contact with the other woman.

But she's taken aback at the playful twinkle that's pointed at her. It's nerving, causing Gayle to become temporarily unresponsive and leading her to believe that this agent knows exactly what she means by her question.

Gayle starts again. "It's just that I haven't been bothered the whole day." Gayle elaborates, trying to seem indifferent about Imra's disappearance. "I'm suspecting that she died or has been seriously maimed."

Vasquez narrows her eyes at the woman. "I assure you Ms. Marsh, she's in tip top shape. I think you already know that though." She winks and continues to the door, already having an inkling that Gayle is no longer put together after what she'd said.

The blonde's jaw is loose as the door shuts. Believe it or not, she was tongue tied at the implication. Gayle scoffs, crossing her arms in frustration. 

"The audacity! I don't stare at her!"

When her mind flashes to the nicely shaped ass that her eyes had consistently slipped towards to, she blushes furiously, her own body going against her stubbornness.

"Great, my own mind betrays me."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I wrote that poem, it's so simple but shit dudes. I'm proud of myself. I call that poem "Flirty Assistance"


End file.
